


Seasons of Cloud and Shadow

by tuesdayfic (tuesday)



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-21
Updated: 2007-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:49:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesdayfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monsoon season comes to Konoha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons of Cloud and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to aiwritingfic for betaing. Originally written for the Naruto kink meme.

The first time rain and Temari's visits coincided, she stood in Shikamaru's garden for three hours before coming in, soaked, shivering, and grinning from ear to ear. Her clothes were plastered to her body, every curve revealed, ponytails weighed down and dark with water, dripping all over the floor of the entrance with complete disregard for the mess.

He'd looked up at her from his position sprawled out on the floor, trying not to stare at her nipples, and drawled out, "Have fun?" as though he hadn't been watching through the open doors the entire time. Temari just smiled back, peeled off her clothes, and tossed them onto his once-clean floor. She wasn't wearing underwear. "There're towels, uh, towels in the—"

Shikamaru gave up any pretense of boredom and obliviousness, watching wide-eyed as she stepped up onto the tatami and stalked toward him with a predatory grace. "Take off your pants," she told him. Shikamaru wasn't stupid. He complied as fast as his clumsy fingers would allow, barely managing to get them undone before Temari was leaning down over him. "Up," she said and Shikamaru lifted his hips, letting her slide them off and out from under him.

"You're dripping on the tatami," said Shikamaru as she pulled his pants and underwear down his calves and over his feet.

"You'll just have to keep me from touching it then, won't you?" She didn't even bother with his mesh shirt, just sank down onto his lap—wrapping her cool, damp arms around him—and brought the rain to him. Shikamaru clutched back, hands stretched out along her shoulder-blades, and buried his face in her neck and hair, breathing it in, that scent of wet and clean and new that accompanied the beginning of monsoon season.

\--

The second time, Temari made him go out there with her. His jacket soaked through, mesh shirt not much protection against the wet and cold. The wind whipped his hair about, ponytail coming undone and tumbling down into his face. It was dark, nimbus clouds blocking out the light and dumping so much water Shikamaru felt drowned, ready to step back indoors after only seconds outside.

For Temari, the shine had yet to fade. She laughed and whirled about, splashing in puddles and pulling Shikamaru with her. Her enthusiasm was not so much infectious as demanding. He sighed and gave in. It was less trouble to follow her whims than fight her on it. At least her happiness over all this damn water meant the sex was good and she was usually so high on endorphins that there wasn't much for it but to brace himself—Temari was a river and he'd been swept up and along for the ride.

Still, when she pushed him into a puddle of mud and his only recourse was to sweep her legs out from under her and pull her down with him, Shikamaru couldn't help but wonder if there was any way to arrange it so that he visited _her_ during monsoon season.

At Shikamaru's insistence, they left their muddy clothes at the entrance and went first to the bath before any trips to the bedroom. They washed one another's backs and hair, then rinsed off before entering the tub. He sighed at the warmth of the water, closing his eyes. Something brushed against his thigh—Shikamaru suspected it was a hand.

"Not in the bath." He didn't bother opening his eyes.

"I wasn't planning anything of the sort."

Shikamaru didn't trust her tone, but it was difficult to work up any effort at indignation with the heat working its magic on him, undoing the tense knots in his muscles.

That was definitely a hand, its fellow following, kneading into his thighs, working their way back. "Temari." Really, this sort of thing wasn't meant for the bathtub. But it was a long way to the bed, and this water, at least, was warm. He sighed again and leaned into her hands. They would get out in a minute. Maybe two.

By the time they left the bath, the water was tepid and their fingers wrinkled. Shikamaru was too tired to even bother drying off his hair, toweling off before stumbling into bed. Temari followed a little after, a second, dry towel in her hands. "You'll catch a cold, moron," she said, wrapping his head gently and rubbing his hair and scalp in soothing strokes.

Shikamaru mumbled something into the pillow about how troublesome women were, but even he couldn't hear himself properly. He didn't even finish the sentence before he fell into sleep.

\--

The third time, they stayed in, pillows and blankets piled on the floor and themselves stretched out over top their makeshift bed. Temari watched the rain fall, ever fascinated. Shikamaru watched her—her lips were parted slightly and her chest rose and fell gently; her hair was loose, a stray curl falling down into her eyes; the blankets pooled around her waist. His fingers itched and Shikamaru finally gave in, brushing the lock of hair back off her forehead. It wasn't enough.

He buried both his hands in her smooth, spiky hair; kissed her soft, hard mouth; lost himself in her contradictions. She stretched back—wide, welcome, open under his fingers. His fingers slipped easily inside her slick warmth, rubbing gently that place that made her grip on the covers tighten and the smirk slide off her face.

He kissed her lips, her chin; her cheekbones and jaw line. He nibbled on an ear as he moved his fingers slowly in and out of her; propped himself to the side, covers falling off them completely. He stroked his other hand down her body, along her breasts and stomach and sides, down further to join his other hand between her thighs.

The position was entirely too awkward, uncomfortable, troublesome; but when he moved his fingers in rhythm, manipulated all the right nerve endings, the expression of rapture on her face was worth it. It was the same look she'd had when she'd awakened that first morning to watch water pour from the sky.

When she later flipped their positions, shoving him down onto his back and putting her hands in all his favorite places, well, that was just a bonus.

\--

He didn't like the rain. He didn't. It was cold, wet, and given the choice he would stay in here, with her and her warm hands and warmer smile.

But he almost found himself looking forward to it now, the sound of it hitting his roof and pouring down into his garden bringing with it now thoughts of her. He found himself watching the rain even while she was suffered hot and dry in Suna; imaged its soft patter as her whispers in his ear.

\--

The last time, they were out in the mess, wind push-pulling them around, mud and muck coating their calves and feet, creeping into their clothes and sandals. Shikamaru could barely see through the blood the rain was quickly flushing from his eyes. Each move was a slip-slide forward or back, opponents barely seen, allies difficult to discern. He lost track of her in the whirl of wind and water around him. Chouji had his back and Ino had disappeared off to one side, chasing after a pink flash that might have been Sakura.

There was the occasional flash of lightning or Chidori—it was difficult to tell and Shikamaru was more focused on the immediate—on not falling in a puddle or taking a kunai to the chest. Water pounded down against him, made the grip to his knife almost too slick to hold. His actions were all a little off, buffeted farther forward and back. Shikamaru was too busy to spare any energy to hate the rain. His chakra was low, his team was broken up, and it was down now to the grunt work of hand-to-hand, weapons-to-weapons.

By the time the rain finally relented, he was too tired to be surprised he'd made it through. He slumped against Chouji's side a moment, two. They barely noticed the light drizzle against their skin. Chouji's grip on his shoulder was almost painful.

"Gonna go find Ino," Chouji said after another few minutes, standing and stumbling off.

Shikamaru nodded mostly to himself; he gave himself a minute more before he stood up and walked away.

\--

The next monsoon season, Shikamaru opened the doors into his garden and walked out into the rain. He was soaked through in seconds, hair plastered to his skin, water trickling down his face, down his neck and chest and legs. He breathed deep and unsteady that new rain scent—let it fill his mouth and chest and lungs—and breathed out.

_Temari._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Seasons of Cloud and Shadow (Like the Deserts Miss the Rain)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295050) by [Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer)




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